Skinny Skinny Girl
by acer370915
Summary: Many girls have weight issues. But only a few have resorted to the same extreme measures as Lovina Vargas. SpainxFem!Romano. Rated M for language and eating disorders.


**Sorry, sorry! I haven't updated _A Band of Freaks_ recently because I am super pissed. I wrote the next chapter on fanfiction and the dumb website erased my work. Anyone who has ever had this happen to them knows how annoying it is to have to rewrite something you've already written. But no worries, it will get done! And it's uber (yes, I just used the word uber) cute~! Anyways, this is just an old drabble I found on my computer so ignore if it sucks:) Enjoy!**

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Lovina hated-no, absolutely _despised_ birthdays. Especially her own. Why wouldn't she? Last year, their birthday banner had read "HAPPY BIRTHDAY FELI!" with Lovina's name tacked tastelessly to the end last minute. Lovina had gotten so upset she had to redo her mascara, eventually spending a good hour or so in the bathroom crying as the party raged on a door's width away; when she had finally emerged, albeit red-eyed and slightly deflated, she was struck with the realization that nobody had even noticed her absence. Even Feli, dumb and lovable Feli, had been reveling in the annual Vargas celebration without noticing her twin's mysterious disappearance.

But the worst thing about birthdays in Lovina's opinion was the suffocating presence of fatty, unhealthy foods. Pizza, chips, barbecue, soda pop, you name it. All of them teased the eldest Vargas until she finally succumbed to her little...problem.

Currently, she was narrowing tempted chartreuse eyes at the twins' three tier cake-red velvet with a thick coating of cream cheese frosting. She had already eaten a slice of pizza and a half-cup of Sprite (that was, what, 200 calories about) and she simply could not allow herself more.

"Lovi!" an obnoxious voice hollered over the blaring music as Antonio elbowed his way through the girating bodies, messily-wrapped present tucked like a football beneath one muscular arm. "Feliz cumpleaños, mi amor!"

"Don't speak to me in Spanish, dipshit!" the eldest Vargas scoffed, eyeing the gift greedily before focusing that same wanting look on that _fucking delicious_ cake. Antonio followed her line of sight and cracked a grin.

"Aw, did you want some cake, mi amor? Here, hold your present!" the Spaniard exclaimed, kissing his girlfriend sweetly on the forehead before disappearing amidst the throngs of party guests; he was excited that Lovi seemed to have finally regained her appetite.

"Wait, Antonio, I-!" she managed, but it was too late. The music was too loud and he was too far gone.

She chewed nervously on her thumbnail, wondering how many calories a single slice of cake could have. Subconsciously, she glanced at her girth in the hallway mirror, noticing how her arms were a tad bit thicker than Feli's, how her stomach was a bit wider than Feli's, how her entire fucking body was complete shit compared to Feli's. How she wished she could excel in some sport like her twin did in soccer. It wasn't fair that because of her muscular inadequacy (and lack of hand-eye coordination and altogether piss-poor team spirit) she was doomed to forever be the fat twin.

Antonio returned in the middle of her internal ramblings, a plate and fork extended to her as he himself deftly nibbled on a cookie. Lovina glanced at her Spanish boyfriend, wondering what the hell he could see in her. He was a good foot taller than her, almost reaching Berwald's intimidating stature, and had a sexy mop of disheveled brown hair. His accent was literally to _die_ for and his bronze skin had even attracted the steely gaze of Natalia Braginskaya at one point in time. He was charismatic, friendly, popular, and a bunch of other adjectives that could be easily applied to Feliciana but never to the bitter and foul-tempered Lovina.

"Aren't you going to eat, mi amor? Are you feeling alright? Did Gilbert say something perverted? 'Cause I can beat him up if you li-" Antonio rambled, pressing his forehead to Lovina's in an attempt to check her temperature. That was another admirable trait of the Spaniard's; he was incessantly sweet and caring, an idiosyncrasy the eldest Italian claimed to despise but had secretly grown fond of.

The auburnette glanced down at the plate Antonio had slipped between her finger and gulped.

"Ah, y-yeah. Thanks, Bastard," she mumbled, deciding as the first bite hit her tongue that, fuck it, she'd break her sober streak just for tonight.

For the rest of the evening, Lovina, ignorant of her boyfriend's pleased gaze, stopped counting calories and simply...well, ate. She shoveled down whole slices of cake, barely savoring the taste before she reached for another piece, mouth never ceasing its chewing motions.

She knew what she was doing; it had registered two bites into her first dessert. She was, despite her previous attempts not to, binging. And not just cake-_oh no_, if she was going to drop her generally strict eating habits then why not go to the extreme? Chips with sour cream and onion dip, garlic bread dipped in marinara sauce, vanilla bean cupcakes, orange soda; she binged it all. Hell, at one point she even snuck off to the family kitchen and crammed down two tomatoes, pausing at the pantry to eye Feliciana's personal stash of guilty pleasures (aka all the food Lovina wished she had the metabolism to eat). Shrugging her shoulders and thinking, _Fuck it_, the auburnette ripped open a pack of sundae Poptarts and continued her deranged binging. As long as Antonio didn't see her and think she was some cupcake-gobbling fatass, then everything would be fine.

All she had to do was purge.

Lovina rested a petite hand on her engorged stomach, feeling stuffed to the brim as the guilt started to sink in.

Oh, God.

She had just stomached thousands of calories in less than an hour. She had to get it the fuck out of her.

The sudden frantic need to empty her stomach encouraged her to slip away from the party and head to her own personal bathroom. Once sure that nobody had followed her up, she quickly turned to the mirror, raising her shirt and examining the sheer size of her abdomen.

Tears pricked her eyes.

She was fat. A fat fucking mess with Poptarts on her breath and a twig-sized twin receiving birthday wishes downstairs. It wasn't fair that Feliciana could eat pasta and cannolis and fucking_ potatoes_ all day without gaining a single pound. In fact, in recent months it seemed as though she was _losing_ weight, what with all of her soccer practices and nights out with friends (her endless supply of doting fucking friends). Lovina, on the other hand, could starve herself for an entire goddamn week and still not be as _beautiful and cheery and oh-so-fucking skinny_ as her sister.

It wasn't fair at all. They were twins for God's sake.

Finally, Lovina jammed the end of her toothbrush down her throat and gagged. She gagged until finally mush reminiscent of cake, chips, and Lord knows what else was upchucked into the sink bowl. Even with the spigot on full blast, she couldn't mask the sounds of her wretching.

_Out, out, out. Get it out or else you'll be fat. You'll be two-hundred fucking pounds and Antonio will never love you._

Lovina had been purging for almost an hour, her throat raw. Digging the toothbrush deeper, she was momentarily unaware of the door being ripped open until a strangled cry reached her ears. A surge of panic rushed through the birthday girl as she finished vomiting up what was left in her stomach. Looking up and quickly removing the toothbrush, Lovina was horrified to see Feliciana staring at her, horrified.

"S-Sorella, what are you-?" the younger twin managed before choking into sobs. It must have been a horrible sight, seeing her normally strong-willed sister force herself to vomit on their _birthday_.

"Feli, i-it's not what you thin-" Lovina gasped, though the evidence was indisputable. There was so much vomit, in fact, that the sink drain was clogged, allowing an awful stench to waft throughout the small room. Before another word could be uttered, heavy footsteps were jogging up the stairs.

"Feli, did you find her yet?" Antonio called, wandering into Lovina's bedroom where the younger twin was standing, petrified. The Spaniard stopped, heart sinking as his mind immediately jumped to rash conclusions. "Feli? What's wrong? Is Lovi-?" Antonio faltered, his emerald eyes falling on his pale girlfriend.

Lovina could not believe this was happening. Tears had slipped down her nose without her realizing it and she opened her mouth to speak; instead she coughed onto the countertop, blood hitting the cool tile as she realized she must have ripped her throat up pretty bad. She _had_ been rubbing a toothbrush against her larynx for almost a full sixty minutes after all. The slight spattering of blood didn't faze her (she'd experienced it before during her more bulimic high school years) but the two standing shell-shocked in the doorway immediately panicked.

Feliciana screamed and, before she could comprehend what was happening, Lovina was wrapped in the warm embrace of her boyfriend.

"A-Antonio?" the auburnette finally managed, her voice ragged and uncharacteristically soft.

"I'm sorry! I'm s-so, so sorry! Please don't hate me, Antonio!" she suddenly shrieked, voice rising as she raised her limp hands to the Spaniard's chest, clenching tightly at his shirt. "Don't hate me. I-"

"What the _fuck_ were you thinking, Lovina?" he growled into her hair, surprising her with the severity in his voice. And what's worse, he had cussed _and_ used her full name in the same sentence. "_Gagging_ yourself? You could cause serious damage doing that!"

"I-I didn't-"

"What compelled you to do this? How could you fucking do this? I just, I don't understand," he continued, roughly grabbing her small face between both of his hands and forcing their eyes to meet. "Tell me, Lovi, just what on earth you were thinking!"

She stared up at him, olive eyes overflowing with tears. Behind Antonio, she could see Feliciana cry into her hands.

Her mouth opened but no words came out.

Antonio gripped her shoulders and shook her, anger and devastation plainly evident on his face. Lovina could feel his heart hammering away at a mile a minute beneath the flat of her palm.

"_Tell me!_" he seethed, searching for an answer in her terrified face.

"I d-did it because I'm, I..." she trailed off, her mouth feeling like cotton.

After a moment of silence, Antonio pressed, "Yes? You're what?"

Lovina averted her eyes before muttering the fatal words that had dictated that night's actions.

"I'm fat."

Antonio's grip slackened and he stared at her, mouth agape and eyes bewildered.

"Lovi-Lovina," he cooed as the girl in his arms broke down sobbing. "You are certainly not fat, mi amor!" At this, he and Feliciana shared a knowing look. "In fact, your family has been worried for quite some time about your, ah, extremely low weight."

"D-Don't fucking l-lie to me, b-bastard!"

"No, mi amor, it's true! Feliciana told me that you haven't been eating much lately and that you've lost a lot of weight. It's not healthy."

"Shows how much you fucking know! I'm almost a h-hundred pounds, bastard! A hundred!" Lovina protested from his embrace, staring up at his slightly shocked look.

"L-Lovi...that's not a healthy weight at all-"

"I know! I'm fucking huge!"

"No, no, that's not it! You're 5'5 and less than a hundred pounds? Exactly how much do you weigh?"

Lovina blushed in mortification before mumbling, "95 pounds." Feliciana gasped from her position in the doorway and launched into a new round of tears.

Hesitantly, Antonio pulled at the hem of his girlfriend's baggy shirt (in fact, most of her clothes had been extremely baggy as of recently), tugging it gently to her bust and gasping.

She was just so _small_.

"Wha-What the fuck do you think you're doing, asshole?" Lovina bit but didn't push the Spaniard's hands away as he examined the contour of her ribs.

"How could I not have noticed?" the brunette spoke to himself, disturbed by the slight dip in of his Lovi's stomach. And she thought she was fat? "Mi amor...you're much too skinny. You need to gain some weight."

At this, the auburnette pulled back, aghast.

"What? Fuck that! I am not going to _gain_ weight, especially not on purpose!" she cried, but stopped short when she saw the seriousness in Antonio's normally enigmatic eyes.

"You...you really think I n-need to gain weight?"

With a solemn nod, he turned Lovina's face towards the mirror where her reflection stood in his arms, shirt pulled up to her breasts. The Italian glanced at her whimpering sister and the pained expression on her boyfriend's face.

And then she looked at herself-_really_ looked at herself. She was a normal height (though comparatively short next to Antonio's over six foot stature) and extremely pale, olive eyes appearing miserable. Her hair, normally a reddish-brown, almost copper color, had dulled since she last examined it.

But most importantly, her torso was alarmingly small, bones jutting out at odd angles.

Lovina Vargas finally saw past her distorted body image and finally saw her true self.

She couldn't help but turn from her reflection and cry into Antonio's shirt, only partially aware that Feliciana had hugged her from behind and was likewise sobbing.

"Don't worry, mi amor. We will help you," Antonio promised softly into her hair, hands running through her auburn locks. Lovina nodded into him.

_As long as Antonio loves me_, she thought, clutching him closer. _Then maybe I can love myself, too._

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__**Fail, story is fail! For real, don't judge my writing prowess on this dinky little drabble. And if you read it all the way to the end, then kudos to you, my friend! :) Review, of course, but don't be mean~!**


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